Trial by Fire - part 2
II.
Brothers in blood;
Brothers in arms.
Aiolia had been trained since a very young age by his brother, Aiolos, so that when he grew up he could become one of the saints who protected peace and the goddess Athena.
Normally, at the end of their training, an aspiring saint would be put to the test in a series of fights against other apprentices. Only the winner of that tournament would be granted the honour of wearing one of the sacred cloths and the title of Athena's saint. Aiolia, however, had been recognised early on by the Pope for having a potential way above average: once he was older, he would join the elite of the Order, the gold saints named after the twelve constellations of the zodiac. As such, it wouldn't be necessary for him to go through the whole ritual to acquire a cloth. The title of gold saint was as much a certainty in his life as the fact that the sky was above and the earth below.
It was a granted fact, that is, until his brother figuratively removed the ground from under his feet by betraying the Sanctuary and the goddess.
The day Aiolos had attempted to murder Athena and fled the Sanctuary in disgrace had been a terrible, terrifying day for little Aiolia. Although his life hadn't been easy nor sheltered from the harshness of reality, until then, the six-year-old had never doubted that there were some things that he'd always be able to count on: his brother; the Leo gold cloth; the Sanctuary. Those simple truths were what sustained and motivated him throughout the difficult, and sometimes cruel, training in his childhood. However, on that day, that unforgettable day, it had all been ripped away from him and the little apprentice suddenly found himself without a brother or a mentor, alone in a place that no longer welcomed him.
He had never been so afraid or had as little hope in the future as then. Eager to distance himself from his brother's deeds, he'd even made a request to the Pope to be given a new master that could keep training him, but his dreams were promptly crushed when the ruler of the Sanctuary had denied it and prohibited him from being taught any further, declaring it was too dangerous: his loyalty was in question. The right to the Leo cloth was taken away, as well as all the small privileges that he'd enjoyed up until then. He was regarded with hatred and mistrust by all.
The young Leo went through some bleak moments, persecuted and humiliated by the population of the Sanctuary, but he eventually recovered his lost hope and determination. If no one was going to teach him, then he would learn by himself and prove to everyone that he was trustworthy and good enough to become a saint. If it wasn't possible for him to earn a gold cloth any more, then he'd get a silver or even a bronze one.
He dedicated all of his energy to it, often risking crossing the line between life and death, but he was determined not to let anything keep him from reaching his goal and clearing the stain that Aiolos had left on his name. He intended to show the Pope his value, and so that there wouldn't be any doubts about it, he'd have to become the strongest.
Years later, when he finally felt he was ready, he asked for a hearing with the Pope. He wasn't sure if he'd be received - after all, he was just the traitor's brother, whom had been denied the right to become a saint - but he had the first sign that things could go in his favour when the door to the chambers opened. He knew that there was currently a tournament going on for one of the bronze cloths and he requested the Pope for permission to join it despite the late stage of the competition.
After thinking it over, the ruler of the Sanctuary had given him his consent. They would wait until the tournament was over and then Aiolia would have a single opportunity to fight the champion for the cloth. If he won that match, he'd be made a saint.
Now that he was at the centre of the coliseum, Aiolia felt that all he had to do was reach out to take hold of all that he'd ever dreamed of. Phaeton was certainly a fearsome opponent for anyone else, but not him.
He was confident.
He allowed himself a moment's distraction before the fight began and gave a look at the surrounding stands. Aiolia soon found familiar faces.
Milo, the Scorpio gold saint: sharing the same age, they had once been close friends. That status had changed, though, to one of fierce rivalry after the incident with Aiolos. As if he felt personally offended by his proximity to the traitor's little brother, Milo had made it his mission to make Aiolia's life a living hell whenever they crossed paths. With time, and possibly lured by the shiny Scorpio cloth, Milo had quickly amassed a group of followers. They were the ones who howled the loudest in the crowd, but it wasn't them that the young sea-green-eyed boy was trying to locate.
Being constantly chased by Milo's group, Aiolia had soon gotten into the habit of exploring the Sanctuary for little frequented spots he could be at peace in. He'd walked all the paths on the cliffs facing the Aegean Sea at least once, and he knew the woods around the restricted women's training grounds better than the back of his hand. It was on one of his visits to that area that he had met her...
"Aiolia, are you sure about what you're doing?"
"Yes, Marin. Please don't be worried. Everything will work out, you'll see. Next time we talk, I'll be a bronze saint, I promise!"
At the moment, he couldn't find even a hint of the fiery red hair of the one who had supported him the most. Closing his eyes, he tried to get a feel for her cosmo, that inner energy that was unique to each individual, but the effort was in vain. There were too many emotions running wild in that arena to make out any one in particular. Still, he knew that it didn't matter if he couldn't see her - she was in the middle of that crowd somewhere, he was sure of it. Marin had promised him that she'd be there and she would never go back on her word. Although younger than him by a few years, Marin had become his best friend.
She had arrived at the Sanctuary from Japan after Aiolos's death and, being the only Asian there, found great resistance to the possibility of becoming a saint. Like Aiolia, she was having difficulty getting accepted. She had told Aiolia that before she had started using the mandatory mask that all women were required to wear, all her companions had pointed at her differently shaped eyes and laughed.
Strangely, when they met for the first time in the woods, Marin had recognised him as "the one they told me to stay away from" and the first thing she'd done when she saw Aiolia turning to walk away was to say that the same thing was happening to her. Since then, they had become nearly inseparable, supporting each other and each day discovering all of the things they had in common.
Gigars should be about to give the start sign, though, so Aiolia focused back on the present. He was surprised when he found not the crystal-eyed commander, but Phaeton's fist in a direct collision course with his nose. He clenched his teeth in preparation for the hit, knowing that it was too late to dodge or defend.
The fight had begun.
Part III...
Brothers in blood;
Brothers in arms.
Aiolia had been trained since a very young age by his brother, Aiolos, so that when he grew up he could become one of the saints who protected peace and the goddess Athena.
Normally, at the end of their training, an aspiring saint would be put to the test in a series of fights against other apprentices. Only the winner of that tournament would be granted the honour of wearing one of the sacred cloths and the title of Athena's saint. Aiolia, however, had been recognised early on by the Pope for having a potential way above average: once he was older, he would join the elite of the Order, the gold saints named after the twelve constellations of the zodiac. As such, it wouldn't be necessary for him to go through the whole ritual to acquire a cloth. The title of gold saint was as much a certainty in his life as the fact that the sky was above and the earth below.
It was a granted fact, that is, until his brother figuratively removed the ground from under his feet by betraying the Sanctuary and the goddess.
The day Aiolos had attempted to murder Athena and fled the Sanctuary in disgrace had been a terrible, terrifying day for little Aiolia. Although his life hadn't been easy nor sheltered from the harshness of reality, until then, the six-year-old had never doubted that there were some things that he'd always be able to count on: his brother; the Leo gold cloth; the Sanctuary. Those simple truths were what sustained and motivated him throughout the difficult, and sometimes cruel, training in his childhood. However, on that day, that unforgettable day, it had all been ripped away from him and the little apprentice suddenly found himself without a brother or a mentor, alone in a place that no longer welcomed him.
He had never been so afraid or had as little hope in the future as then. Eager to distance himself from his brother's deeds, he'd even made a request to the Pope to be given a new master that could keep training him, but his dreams were promptly crushed when the ruler of the Sanctuary had denied it and prohibited him from being taught any further, declaring it was too dangerous: his loyalty was in question. The right to the Leo cloth was taken away, as well as all the small privileges that he'd enjoyed up until then. He was regarded with hatred and mistrust by all.
The young Leo went through some bleak moments, persecuted and humiliated by the population of the Sanctuary, but he eventually recovered his lost hope and determination. If no one was going to teach him, then he would learn by himself and prove to everyone that he was trustworthy and good enough to become a saint. If it wasn't possible for him to earn a gold cloth any more, then he'd get a silver or even a bronze one.
He dedicated all of his energy to it, often risking crossing the line between life and death, but he was determined not to let anything keep him from reaching his goal and clearing the stain that Aiolos had left on his name. He intended to show the Pope his value, and so that there wouldn't be any doubts about it, he'd have to become the strongest.
Years later, when he finally felt he was ready, he asked for a hearing with the Pope. He wasn't sure if he'd be received - after all, he was just the traitor's brother, whom had been denied the right to become a saint - but he had the first sign that things could go in his favour when the door to the chambers opened. He knew that there was currently a tournament going on for one of the bronze cloths and he requested the Pope for permission to join it despite the late stage of the competition.
After thinking it over, the ruler of the Sanctuary had given him his consent. They would wait until the tournament was over and then Aiolia would have a single opportunity to fight the champion for the cloth. If he won that match, he'd be made a saint.
Now that he was at the centre of the coliseum, Aiolia felt that all he had to do was reach out to take hold of all that he'd ever dreamed of. Phaeton was certainly a fearsome opponent for anyone else, but not him.
He was confident.
He allowed himself a moment's distraction before the fight began and gave a look at the surrounding stands. Aiolia soon found familiar faces.
Milo, the Scorpio gold saint: sharing the same age, they had once been close friends. That status had changed, though, to one of fierce rivalry after the incident with Aiolos. As if he felt personally offended by his proximity to the traitor's little brother, Milo had made it his mission to make Aiolia's life a living hell whenever they crossed paths. With time, and possibly lured by the shiny Scorpio cloth, Milo had quickly amassed a group of followers. They were the ones who howled the loudest in the crowd, but it wasn't them that the young sea-green-eyed boy was trying to locate.
Being constantly chased by Milo's group, Aiolia had soon gotten into the habit of exploring the Sanctuary for little frequented spots he could be at peace in. He'd walked all the paths on the cliffs facing the Aegean Sea at least once, and he knew the woods around the restricted women's training grounds better than the back of his hand. It was on one of his visits to that area that he had met her...
"Aiolia, are you sure about what you're doing?"
"Yes, Marin. Please don't be worried. Everything will work out, you'll see. Next time we talk, I'll be a bronze saint, I promise!"
At the moment, he couldn't find even a hint of the fiery red hair of the one who had supported him the most. Closing his eyes, he tried to get a feel for her cosmo, that inner energy that was unique to each individual, but the effort was in vain. There were too many emotions running wild in that arena to make out any one in particular. Still, he knew that it didn't matter if he couldn't see her - she was in the middle of that crowd somewhere, he was sure of it. Marin had promised him that she'd be there and she would never go back on her word. Although younger than him by a few years, Marin had become his best friend.
She had arrived at the Sanctuary from Japan after Aiolos's death and, being the only Asian there, found great resistance to the possibility of becoming a saint. Like Aiolia, she was having difficulty getting accepted. She had told Aiolia that before she had started using the mandatory mask that all women were required to wear, all her companions had pointed at her differently shaped eyes and laughed.
Strangely, when they met for the first time in the woods, Marin had recognised him as "the one they told me to stay away from" and the first thing she'd done when she saw Aiolia turning to walk away was to say that the same thing was happening to her. Since then, they had become nearly inseparable, supporting each other and each day discovering all of the things they had in common.
Gigars should be about to give the start sign, though, so Aiolia focused back on the present. He was surprised when he found not the crystal-eyed commander, but Phaeton's fist in a direct collision course with his nose. He clenched his teeth in preparation for the hit, knowing that it was too late to dodge or defend.
The fight had begun.
Part III...